Slow Burn
by callmeGreen-Eyes
Summary: Sometimes it takes awhile for a spark to turn into a roaring fire. This is the story of Aziraphale and Crowley after the non-apocalypse, the catalyst that finally brings them together, and several of their more exciting "firsts."
1. Kindling

Sometimes it takes awhile for a spark to turn into a roaring fire. This is the story of Aziraphale and Crowley after the non-apocalypse, the catalyst that finally brings them together, and several of their more exciting "firsts."

WARNING: This story contains suicide, some PTSD, lots of swearing, and sex.

* * *

CHAPTER 1: KINDLING

The only thing stopping the apocalypse guaranteed was more time, and the only thing time could guarantee was change. Not all change was fast, of course – the biggest changes were usually very, very slow. Sometimes you had to live for a few thousand years to see them. Sometimes it took awhile for a spark to turn into a roaring fire…

In the meantime, the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley had gotten into the habit of weekly lunches. They didn't have to hide their friendship anymore, and they had very few social opportunities after being relieved from their respective positions because the world didn't end, so once the lunches began neither had an interest in stopping them.

Most of the time, they talked about meaningless nothings: Crowley would tell Aziraphale when he got a new plant, Aziraphale would tell Crowley when he got a new book, and they would plan trips to Tadfield every few weeks for variety – and to check up on the antichrist. "Better late than never," Crowley had said, and Adam didn't seem to mind interacting with adults who knew what had actually happened that day. Sometimes current events would pop into their lunch conversations, especially when it was something exceptionally local or large, but for the most part they tried to let the world turn on its own recognizance. They certainly never talked about their feelings, at least nothing beyond being grateful for help and friendship and time. It was normal, and it was comfortable, and it was boring, but at least it was safe.

Our story starts on one of the few abnormal lunches they had. Crowley was particularly mopey that day, though of course he refused to admit it and Aziraphale didn't want to pry. Instead, Aziraphale did his best to make lunch enjoyable for both of them, and when that failed, he suggested they walk through a nearby park. The park just installed multiple new gardens – miraculously, all within the month since Aziraphale and Crowley had last been to this particular restaurant – and Aziraphale thought a nice walk could be good. "For both of us," he said, but they both knew he was trying to cheer up Crowley.

It worked, for the most part. Crowley was never really a "cheery" person, but his mood was lifted by the new gardens. They were new enough that they hadn't been trashed by the public or neglected by the government yet, and many of the plants were blooming. It looked and smelled beautiful, and Crowley was glad Aziraphale had suggested it (though he would never say so, of course).

He was glad, that is, until a sour note entered the park. He wasn't sure where or who it was at first, but as the person approached he was able to narrow it down. It was a teenage boy, radiating sadness and determination in a way Crowley had personally felt too many times before. His eyes locked on the teen, unsure what to do.

Before he could decide, however, Aziraphale asked, "Crowley? Is something wrong? Why are you staring at that boy?"

Crowley didn't want to tell Aziraphale. There was no point in ruining his day too. Crowley could tell, even if it wasn't today, it would be someday. But…. maybe Aziraphale will have an idea of how to help. Maybe he could work a miracle Crowley couldn't to save this kid from himself.

"That kid…" Crowley started, his lips barely moving. "He's going to kill himself."

Aziraphale's mouth dropped. Whatever he was expecting, it clearly wasn't that. "How do you know?" he whispered to Crowley, now also watching the kid – no more than 15 – cross the park.

"Demon," Crowley said simply. "We can feel powerful negative emotions. It's how we do what we do so easily."

Aziraphale's wide eyes turned to Crowley, his sadness focused solely on his friend for a moment. This was how Crowley lived, feeling the most powerful negative emotions humanity could offer? No wonder he was moody sometimes! His eyes followed Crowley's sunglasses back to the boy, back to the situation at hand. He may not be able to do much for Crowley, but he could do this.

"Come on," Aziraphale said, determination in his voice. Crowley opened his mouth to object, but Aziraphale was already gone.

"Excuse me!" Aziraphale said politely to the kid, pulling his gaze from his shoes. "I'm so sorry, are you a resident of this area?" he asked.

He was Aziraphale, so he didn't look scary or weird or intimidating. Just….unexpected. So, as happened any time Aziraphale approached a stranger, the stranger responded. "I am?"

"Wonderful! I'm relatively new to the area—" _only if you don't count the last thousand years!_ Crowley thought – "and I'm afraid my friend and I got lost on our way to an early dinner. Would you happen to know where Hart's is?"

"Yeah, actually, it's…" The kid started giving Aziraphale directions to a restaurant that he and Crowley had been to 12 times this year. _Son of a bitch_, Crowley thought, _he's actually getting the kid talking._

Aziraphale "tried" to repeat the directions back to the teenager twice, getting important details wrong both times, before finally asking if he'd be willing to walk them there. He even offered to pay the kid for his trouble, which the kid declined. A teenage boy, declining free money! Aziraphale truly was a miracle worker.

"I'm Aziraphale, by the way," he finally said, as they began heading out of the park. "This is my friend –"

"Anthony," Crowley interrupted. One weird name was enough for today.

"Tyler," the kid said, nodding to both of them awkwardly.

Intentionally or otherwise, Aziraphale had picked a restaurant that was just close enough to be within walking distance, but just far enough away to get a good conversation in. He chatted nonstop, more than Crowley had ever heard him speak to a stranger, asking Tyler about school and hobbies and the area. Tyler changed the topic pretty quick when school came up, the strong emotions from earlier resurging, but Aziraphale seemed to realize why without Crowley's commentary and let Tyler draw his own lines.

A few blocks in, Tyler seemed actively engaged with the conversation, telling Aziraphale about all the different "cool places" to go in the area (most of which were really only teenager friendly), and how the neighborhood had changed since he was a kid (_oh, if he only knew how much it had changed since Aziraphale and I moved in, _Crowley thought).

Somehow, without a single miracle, Aziraphale was literally talking this kid back from the edge. If Crowley hadn't been impressed by him before, this alone would have done the trick. He didn't think anyone in the universe was good-hearted enough to actually be able to do what Aziraphale was doing.

Gently, when opportunity arose, Aziraphale circled the conversation back to school, and finally Tyler admitted he hated it. They'd only been walking for ten minutes, but Aziraphale had spent that entire time pulling Tyler out of his shell of pain inch by inch. Tyler didn't go into detail, but at least he admitted his feelings. Aziraphale, ever the good listener, asked him why.

"Everyone hates me," Tyler said, shrugging. "Or, at least, no one cares about me."

Aziraphale stopped him, one hand on his arm, not forcing him to halt but asking him to, and he did. "Tyler, I am so sorry you feel that way," he said earnestly, his hand squeezing Tyler's elbow. "I hope some part of you knows that's not true though. After all, _I_ care about you."

It was cheesy, it was stereotypical, but somehow, coming from Aziraphale, it actually made the kid pause for a moment.

"You don't even know me," he accused Aziraphale.

"I don't need to know someone well in order to care about them," Aziraphale said. "Know _that_ about _me_."

Crowley couldn't feel Tyler's emotions anymore. When he tried, the kid was still there, still depressed, still lonely, but Aziraphale had bought himself time to do more. _Fucking angels_, Crowley thought, impressed more than he wanted to admit. _Unbelievable._

* * *

Tyler did not kill himself that night, and when Aziraphale "ran into" him the next day he invited the kid around to his "newly purchased" bookshop should he ever want to talk or read. He called Crowley the instant he got back to the shop, positively beaming through the receiver.

"We did it, Crowley! Tyler is… well, not exactly happy, but he certainly seemed improved when I saw him today," Aziraphale gushed.

"_You_ did it, angel," Crowley corrected. "I didn't do anything but stay out of the way."

"Crowley, you were the one who pointed out he was in need. There would have been no me doing anything if you hadn't first done something. _We_ saved him," Aziraphale insisted.

It was abhorrent, being responsible for saving someone and being a demon, but it also lifted Crowley's mood a bit.

"_We_ make a good team, don't you think?" Aziraphale went on.

"Well, we did save the world," Crowley said, only half joking.

"Yes, we did!" Aziraphale laughed, making light of their experiences for the first time. It had only been a year, but also, somehow, it had _already_ been a year. No interference from either office, no questions, no attempted assassinations. Crowley wasn't about to throw a party, but he was relaxing a little. Apparently Aziraphale was too.

"Crowley, would you like to do lunch again today? I'm actually craving some sunshine and people watching – though I don't expect today to be nearly as exciting as yesterday."

Sometimes, Aziraphale was so innocent. He didn't know how depressed the world was, though Crowley had to admit Adam had lessened it somewhat when he "fixed" things.

"How about a park instead? There's a new garden on—"

"Deal! Pick me up?"

Crowley's jaw dropped. Aziraphale said yes to "not food," _and _was inviting Crowley to drive?

"Are you feeling alright angel?" he asked incredulously.

Aziraphale laughed on the other end of the line. "Yes dear, I am. I just… miss talking to people sometimes, you know? Yesterday was invigorating, not because we helped someone, but because we talked to someone, got to know them, even if just a little bit. I used to do that for… work… and I didn't realize I was missing it."

"I'll be there in 20 then," Crowley said, hanging up on Aziraphale's protest that it should take longer than that to drive from his place.

* * *

After that day, there were a few changes to their routine. Aziraphale and Crowley still went on their weekly lunches, but they also started doing other activities. They'd go to a park if it was nice, or a café if it wasn't, and they'd go to local festivals whenever they happened. It was more socializing than Crowley needed, but he could see the affect it had on Aziraphale's personality, and he could see the affect Aziraphale had on the people he talked to. Moods improved around him in a ripple effect, and it really was miraculous to watch. Barred from heaven or not, Aziraphale truly was a gift from God.

They also began to see Tyler at the book shop more often. He didn't often want to talk, but he'd sit at one of Aziraphale's tables working on his homework, or in one of Aziraphale's soft chairs listening to music. Some days his emotions were strong, but not always, and Crowley hoped the fluctuations were mostly due to teenage hormones. Every time Tyler arrived Aziraphale spent time with him, and he almost always left in a better mood than he arrived. Crowley had enough personal experience to fear it wouldn't be enough, but he hoped this one time Aziraphale could prove him wrong again.

* * *

Crowley's fears came to fruition that fall, nearly six months after they had first met Tyler. Aziraphale got a call from Tyler's mother, letting him know that Tyler wouldn't be stopping by for tea ever again. The service was in four days, if he wanted to go.

When Aziraphale called Crowley, he couldn't even speak. Noises and wetness came through the phone, scaring the shit out of Crowley and making him miracle his way into the bookshop. He found Aziraphale sitting on the floor, phone still in hand. Based on the sadness rolling off the angel, he knew what had happened, and he didn't make Aziraphale say the words. One of the benefits of knowing each other as long as they had was that sometimes, they could forgo words.

Those four days were arguably some of the worst in either of their very long lives. Both angel and demon had avoided making deep human connections to avoid the pain of goodbyes, but at least when they connected with someone they usually lived a normal-length life. Tyler was just a kid.

Aziraphale had made Tyler his project, trying to save him from himself, and in doing so had bonded with him. He was a wreck, and he felt like a failure. What kind of crummy angel can't even save a kid from himself?

When he finally voiced these opinions to Crowley the night before the service, several glasses of wine in, Crowley reached for Aziraphale's hand instinctively.

"Stop, Aziraphale, this is _not your fault_," he reminded him. Aziraphale stared at their clasped hands but wouldn't look at Crowley.

"I tried to miracle him," Aziraphale admitted quietly. Crowley wasn't surprised. "I thought it worked, but…"

"It doesn't work like that, angel," Crowley said, sighing. "Mental illness… it's a tricky bastard. It's one of the only things you can't just…wave a hand and make better. Trust me." He took his hand back so he could pour himself more wine. The memories flowing through him were not ones he wanted to relive, not tonight, not ever.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale said, sounding surprised. "You… you've tried before?"

Crowley downed the glass. "Yep."

"…anyone I know?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"Not personally, no."

Aziraphale's eyebrows twitched together in confusion.

"Might have tried to save Van Gogh," Crowley admitted. He poured more wine, and again downed it in one swallow. Sometimes being a snake did have its advantages. "He was the last. I couldn't…" Crowley pinched the bridge of this nose, willing himself to be less…himself. "Couldn't keep trying and failing after that," he finished.

"Oh, Crowley." This time it was Aziraphale who reached out and took Crowley's hand, pulling it from the stem of his empty wine glass.

They sat in silence for a while until Aziraphale sniffed, the noise bringing Crowley out of his own memories and abruptly back into the moment… the moment wherein they were holding hands. Aziraphale didn't even seem to be aware of it, but once Crowley noticed, he couldn't ignore it.

"I…" he started, floundering and standing as an excuse to pull his hand away from Aziraphale's warm grip. "It's late, I should head back to my place. I'll pick you up at ten for…?"

Aziraphale interrupted willingly. Neither of them wanted to say it. "Yeah, ten's fine. Thank you, Crowley."

"Anytime, angel," he said, fumbling with his keys.

"Maybe you better sober up before getting into your beloved Bentley, dear," Aziraphale said casually.

"Right, yeah," Crowley agreed. The bottle closest to him refilled, and he could think clearly again. "See you," he said, and swiftly exited.

Tomorrow was going to be hell.


	2. Spark

CHAPTER 2: SPARK

The service was perfectly human, filled with grief and stories and loss. Aziraphale cried the entire time. Crowley didn't really know what to do other than be there, so that's what he did. Several times Aziraphale reached over for Crowley's hand, and he didn't know if it was conscious or not but he sure as hell wasn't going to say no.

Even if Aziraphale hadn't desperately needed his best friend, Crowley sure as hell wouldn't say no. He had figured out months ago that he had feelings for the angel beside him and had spent the entire time since then trying to figure out the right time, the right place, the right way, to let him know. He still hadn't figured it out, but he knew this most certainly was _not_ the time or the place. For now, he would be exactly what Aziraphale needed, and what Aziraphale needed was no more emotional bombs for a while. It would be a bizarre form of torture for Crowley, but he'd survived worse.

After the services and the socializing, Crowley took Aziraphale back to his flat. He had meant to take him home to the bookshop, but as soon as they pulled up Aziraphale asked if they could to Crowley's instead. Crowley imagined he was having a hard time fathoming being alone where Tyler had been just a couple weeks before, and he sympathized. He didn't say anything about the change in venue, though his flat was miraculously clean by the time Aziraphale walked in behind him.

"Come on, angel, straight to bed for you," Crowley said, leading Aziraphale to his bedroom, the only bedroom, which was also miraculously tidy.

"You know I don't sleep, Crowley," Aziraphale protested quietly.

"You don't sleep _much_, but I know you do on occasion." He swung open the bedroom door and motioned Aziraphale forward. "This is one of those occasions."

"Really, I'm—"

"You're _not_ fine," Crowley interrupted. "You're in mourning, and you're exhausted. Sleep will help with both of those."

Aziraphale stepped forward, almost convinced, but as soon as he saw the bedframe, he knew it was Crowley's bed, and he balked. "Crowley, this is _your_ bed."

"Yes, angel, and tonight it's yours,"

"I can't…" Aziraphale started to back away.

"You can, and you will," Crowley insisted, his hand on Aziraphale's back stopping him from exiting. "This is the bed we have available, and you need it." He walked Aziraphale up to the bed. "I will survive a whole day without, as I have hundreds of times before." He started sliding Aziraphale's coat off.

"Crowley, really—"

"Aziraphale, enough!" He hadn't shouted, but his tone still surprised the angel into silence. "Please," Crowley went on, softer, "just, let me take care of you tonight, okay?"

Aziraphale's lip quivered. _Oh no, no, no, no!_

Aziraphale threw himself at Crowley, his arms wrapped around Crowley's shoulders, Crowley's arms awkwardly outstretched, and Aziraphale's sobs soaking into Crowley's shirt.

"You are… such… a good…. friend!" Aziraphale choked out between sobs.

"Just… get into the bed, angel," Crowley replied reluctantly. After a moment, Aziraphale took a deep breath and pulled away, finally willingly walking over to the bed and starting to crawl in. "Shoes!" Crowley had to run over and pull the angel's shoes off before they swung onto the silk sheets, but Aziraphale barely noticed. Crowley set his shoes by the door, and his jacket on the dresser, and then started to exit. "Try to sleep," he reminded Aziraphale gently.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale said urgently, right as he tried to shut the door.

He flung it back open, scared by Aziraphale's tone. Nothing was different. "What? What's wrong?"

"Would…" Suddenly Aziraphale was bashful, playing with the sheets and avoiding eye contact. "Would you stay with me?" he mumbled. "…I don't want to be alone."

Crowley had never heard Aziraphale sound so desperate for comfort before. In over 6000 years, never once. Without thinking, he returned to the bedside, sat on the edge, and gently wiped some of Aziraphale's tears away. "You're not alone, Aziraphale," he said, trying to sound reassuring. He could have imagined it, but it felt like Aziraphale had leaned into his touch a bit.

Oh, this was getting into dangerous territory.

As soon as Crowley's hand pulled away, Aziraphale scooted backwards on the bed, giving the distinct impression he intended for Crowley to join him there. "Is… is this where you want me?" Crowley asked, not wanting to make any assumptions.

"If it's okay with you," Aziraphale said, sniffling still.

So, Crowley crawled into his own bed with Aziraphale, trying desperately to not think about all the fantasies he'd had about this exact situation, or to overthink about every movement and placement of every inch of his body. He just needed to relax, be normal, be cool, be what Aziraphale needed and exactly nothing more….

"May I?" Aziraphale asked, motioning moving Crowley's arm. He nodded, afraid to speak. Aziraphale lifted the arm, slid underneath, and put his head on Crowley's chest. Crowley's arm hovered midair over Aziraphale for a moment, and then slowly, agonizingly slowly, he lowered it onto Aziraphale, anxiously waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. There wasn't one, just Aziraphale quietly crying and Crowley trying to control his racing heart.

They lay in bed together for quite some time, both slowly relaxing, Aziraphale's tears eventually stopping, and Crowley worrying and wishing his friend wasn't in so much pain. All he wanted was for him to be feel happy and safe. Happy he couldn't guarantee, but maybe he could do something about 'safe.'

_I love you, Aziraphale, _he thought fervently, willing his emotions to form a protective cocoon around the angel at his side. Maybe if he thought it hard enough, Aziraphale would feel safe and cared for, even for just a little while. _I love you Aziraphale. I love you, I love you, I love you… _He repeated the mantra over and over again. It felt good to let himself feel it, and it was all he could do for now.

Aziraphale suddenly sat up, leaning against his elbow and beaming. He didn't say anything, just glowed happily in Crowley's direction despite the day he'd had and the tears drying on his cheeks and the redness in his eyes.

"What?" Crowley finally asked, completely confused by the sudden change in emotion.

As response, Aziraphale leaned forward and gently but confidently pressed his lips against Crowley's, eliciting a moan from both of them. The contact lasted just long enough for Crowley's right hand to move up to Aziraphale's cheek, and then Aziraphale pulled back, still grinning, Crowley's hand still holding his face.

"I love you too, Crowley," he whispered.

As if the kiss wasn't surprising enough, that statement officially left Crowley flabbergasted. "How…?"

"I'm an angel, remember?" Aziraphale teased. "We can feel love, especially intense love. I don't know what you were thinking, but I felt that to my core."

"Oh," was all Crowley could think to say. He _had_ forgotten that, dummy that he was. His hand dropped back to his chest, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice. "Sorry…." Crowley mumbled.

"Sorry? Whatever for?" Aziraphale asked earnestly.

"I… this…" Shit! This was not the time to be dumping all of Crowley's insecurities on Aziraphale. This needed to be about Aziraphale, not him. He swallowed, buying himself a bit more time, his eyes looking anywhere except at Aziraphale. "Well, this wasn't exactly how I wanted to tell you, today of all days. I wanted it to be a _good _day." His fingers raked his hair.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said sympathetically. It didn't make Crowley as uncomfortable as it might once have, but it wasn't as comforting to a demon as it was to most humans. "That would be rather… unrealistic," Aziraphale went on. The odd choice of words got Crowley to look back up, and Aziraphale could clearly see his confusion. "What I mean is, our… relationship…." He tasted the word like new sushi, holding it in his mouth before letting it go. "…has never been strictly _good._ There's always been a little bit of good—" here he lifted his left hand and placed on his chest— "and a little bit of bad." His left hand moved to Crowley's cheek, staying there and preventing Crowley from looking away again. "Historically speaking, this was always how it always was going to be, my dear."

There was a small smirk on Aziraphale's face, and that more than his words reassured Crowley that he hadn't completely fucked up. "I love you, Aziraphale," he whispered, needing to say the words aloud.

"I love you too Crowley," Aziraphale repeated, leaning forward and kissing him again, causing both of them to moan again. When they broke apart, foreheads resting together and fingers entwined on Crowley's shoulder, both were breathing heavily.

"What do we do now?" Aziraphale asked hesitantly.

"I think we go back to bed, angel," Crowley replied, reluctantly pulling his head back. "You still need rest, and we have all of eternity to figure out details later."

Aziraphale leaned farther forward, planting a more passionate kiss on Crowley's lips, leaning into him and making it plainly understood that he did not want to go back to bed. It took everything Crowley could muster to not give in, but he knew today was not the day for such activities. He put both hands on either side of Aziraphale's face, holding it still while he pulled back. Aziraphale made a displeased noise that almost broke Crowley's nerve.

"Not tonight, angel," he murmured, his voice almost as ragged as his breath.

"…do you not want to?" Aziraphale asked, leaning back and looking away. There was the sad angel from earlier, breaking Crowley's heart again.

"Oh, I do, you have _no idea _how much I do," Crowley reassured him, sitting up to bring them closer together again. "Tonight's just not the night. I don't want you to regret anything we do, and… you know I go too fast for you."

The callback did make Aziraphale smile, and he seemed mostly reassured.

"I love you, Aziraphale," Crowley went on. "Can that be enough for tonight?"

Aziraphale's smile finally regained its normal size, and he immediately curled back to Crowley's side and chest. "Absolutely," he said, and he meant it. Crowley's arms wrapped around him, his cheek resting on Aziraphale's curls, and they slowly drifted into content sleep together. It wasn't an entirely good day, but it wasn't an entirely bad day either.

* * *

When they woke the next morning, still wrapped around each other, it was awkward but not unbearable. Crowley's sunglasses had ended up on the pillow next to him during the night, but he didn't feel any rush to put them back on yet. Aziraphale had seen his eyes before, and it was too early to be deceptive.

"Breakfast?" Aziraphale asked, after they had lain in bed awake but unwilling to separate for nearly an hour.

"Sure angel," Crowley replied, laughing just a little, "whatever you want."

"Well…." Aziraphale clearly had something specific on his mind but did not continue.

"Well what?" Crowley egged.

Aziraphale sat up, looking Crowley full in the face. "Well, what I want, if we're doing whatever I want, is another one of your kisses, and—"

Crowley rocked forward and slammed his lips onto Aziraphale's, nearly knocking him backwards on the bed. They groaned in tandem again, and this time Crowley let his lips linger just a bit. It was still a chaste kiss, nothing sexy or scandalous or sinful, but it was thrilling nonetheless. When they broke apart, they were both breathing shakily, and somehow their arms had wrapped around each other of their own volition. Neither pulled back.

Finally Crowley said, "And?"

Aziraphale's brow furrowed. "And what?"

"You said you wanted a kiss, and…. Then I interrupted you. What was next?" This was a whole new line for Crowley to dance around, teasing Aziraphale without pushing him to the point of discomfort. He hadn't had this much fun in ages.

Aziraphale smiled and looked away, blushing at the memory of the interruption. "Right, yes. I also wanted to know what…. this… is?" He vaguely gestured between the two of them. "I mean, I know it's _something_, obviously, but…"

Crowley understood what he was getting at. They had been something like frenemies for so long, this was completely new territory for both of them. Without a map someone was bound to fuck up, and Crowley was sure that someone would be him, so laying everything out right away was probably for the best… even if it was dull and embarrassing.

"Well," Crowley started, unsure where he was going, "we're clearly…."

"Interested?" Aziraphale suggested.

"Definitely interested. And…."

"Exclusive?" Aziraphale suggested, somewhat tentatively.

Crowley lifted Aziraphale's chin so that he could see Crowley's eyes when he said, "_Absolutely."_

Aziraphale relaxed just a little, and Crowley realized he was grateful he didn't have the sunglasses on… possibly for the first time ever. He wasn't sure when that question had occurred to Aziraphale, but he was glad to have squashed it right from the get-go. Humans had ceased to be interesting to Crowley a long, long time ago, but even if they still did, it wasn't his job to tempt them anymore. He could do what he wanted with his dick, and—

_Let's derail that thought right now, demon!_ Crowley thought to himself. Aziraphale's voice fearfully whispering, "_You go too fast for me, Crowley_," echoed in his head, not for the first time. He needed to cater his behavior to Aziraphale's needs, and what Aziraphale needed was to go slow. Or, at least slower than Crowley usually went.

He tried to get his brain back on track. "So," he went on, swallowing past his own insecurities, "I think we can safely say that makes us in a committed relationship." The words were hard for him to say, and his volume dropped with every syllable. It wasn't that he didn't feel it, that it wasn't true, it was just… he was a demon. Committed relationships weren't really a thing he had talked about before. He added, "If you'd like," just in case he'd gotten the wording wrong.

"I would like that very much," Aziraphale agreed.

"That's settled then," Crowley said emphatically, getting up and putting physical space between him and that conversation. It had to happen, but that didn't mean it was completely comfortable. "Still want breakfast, angel?" He turned and offered his hand to Aziraphale, a physical gesture he would never have done before. Aziraphale blushed and looked away again.

"Yes, sure," Aziraphale said, tentatively taking the offered hand and letting Crowley help him off the bed. When Crowley began walking to the door without letting go, Aziraphale let him lead, but his grip got tighter and tighter. By they time they got to the front door Crowley couldn't ignore it any longer. He turned to grab his keys, letting Aziraphale move forward towards the door unhindered. Aziraphale reached to open the door, but before he could Crowley put his hand on it, keeping it closed.

"Aziraphale, talk to me," he demanded.

Aziraphale froze a moment, then slowly rotated on the spot. He was practically pinned between Crowley and the door, though there was no physical connection between them at the moment.

"I… I don't know what you mean, Crowley, I thought—" He wouldn't make eye contact with Crowley. He was lying.

"Aziraphale, _talk to me_," Crowley repeated. He hadn't put his sunglasses back on yet, and his eyes were unblinking. Finally, Aziraphale sighed and his head fell forward, resting gentling on Crowley's chest. Crowley waited, exercising what little patience he had.

"I'm scared," Aziraphale whispered into Crowley's shirt.

Crowley wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. Lost for words, he just draped both arms around Aziraphale, holding him tight for a minute.

"Me too angel," Crowley finally whispered back. He hadn't even realized it. Funny. "We'll go slow, together," he promised. "One step at a time."

"You don't have to say that just for me," Aziraphale said, still talking squarely into Crowley's chest.

"I'm…. I'm not, actually," Crowley admitted. Shit, he _was_ scared. He wanted it all, desperately, but the thought of getting more intimate right now was bloody _terrifying_. "I mean it, Aziraphale. One step at a time."

Finally, Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, his eyes still bloodshot from the last few days and freshly wet. It killed Crowley just a little bit, but he was not going to look away. Never again.

Apparently whatever Aziraphale saw did the trick, because his eyebrows went up just a hair. "Alright then. We have an arrangement," Aziraphale finally said, his eyes twinkling just a little. Crowley rolled his eyes and kissed him, just to shut him up. And to kiss him. It was mostly to kiss him.

"Step one," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses on, "going out to breakfast. You ready angel?"

Neither of them knew it at the time, but they were laying a groundwork for their slow burn relationship in that simple exchange.

"I'm ready Crowley," Aziraphale confirmed. They kissed again, just a quick one, just a reminder that they were still both interested and committed and okay with everything, and then they left.


	3. Flare

CHAPTER 3: FLARE

As promised, they took things slow, checking in with each other regularly to make sure everything was still okay. Crowley was desperate to not fuck up, and in a way so was Aziraphale. Time passed, and as always happens, things slowly began to change. They grew more comfortable with each other, not just as official friends, but as official more-than-friends. There was a level of ease to being with each other – not that it didn't take work, but that they truly could just be themselves around each other. It meant they ended up sharing a lot of firsts, both romantically and otherwise.

* * *

The first time Crowley had deepened their kisses into the open-mouth variety, he had almost forgotten to check with Aziraphale first. His tongue was brushing Aziraphale's lips, and Aziraphale gasped, and it was in that moment Crowley remembered and pulled away. Aziraphale looked surprised, but not opposed.

"Sorry angel," Crowley immediately started. "I…" He was about to explain himself, even licked his lips to get his words together, but the way Aziraphale's eyes followed his tongue across his lips gave him the distinct impression that Aziraphale did not need an explanation.

"Want to try something different, love?" Crowley said instead. Aziraphale nodded yes, apparently speechless, and the fun had recommenced almost immediately.

* * *

The first time Aziraphale drove, it was Crowley's Bentley, with Crowley in the passenger seat trying desperately not to scream. Not that Aziraphale was doing a bad job, but it was his _Bentley_. Aziraphale said he didn't enjoy it regardless of Crowley's behavior at the time, so they didn't repeat the experiment, but Aziraphale was glad to have tried it with Crowley by his side. Truth be told, Aziraphale still didn't really see the point to learning to drive, so why stress Crowley out over it?

* * *

The first time Crowley cooked, he nearly burnt down Aziraphale's bookshop. Crowley vowed never again, _especially_ in Aziraphale's treasured shop, the shop Crowley had watched burn to the ground, had thought burned Aziraphale to the ground. Aziraphale swore the cooking wasn't actually that bad, pointing out that neither of them had to miracle the kitchen, but promised they could go to Crowley's place next time.

That night they also talked about nightmares for the first time, after Crowley woke from an unintentional nap screaming for Aziraphale. He had to admit then that the bookshop fire haunted him still, and Aziraphale admitted that when he had slept post-not-apocalypse, he had nightmares about watching Crowley get kidnapped.

"Me too," Crowley confessed quietly. "Not so much the kidnapping itself, for me, but what they wanted to do to you, how they treated you…"

Crowley was shaking, holding himself, clearly overwhelmed just by talking about it.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Crowley," Aziraphale said, sitting on the couch next to Crowley and holding him close. "I _hate_ that you had to go through that," he said vehemently.

The venom in his voice surprised Crowley. "…why?" He asked, confused. "They weren't trying to hurt _me_."

"And yet they succeeded," Aziraphale said cynically. Crowley couldn't argue with his point. He was angry at their attempted pain, Aziraphale was angry at their successful pain.

"I'm glad," Crowley said stubbornly. "I hate what happened, but I'm glad it happened."

It was Aziraphale's turn to be confused. "You… but… _why_?"

"I would do that a thousand times, have a million nightmares, if it meant keeping you safe."

Crowley had said it into his knees, his face hidden and his body still trembling. Aziraphale could tell he was still overwhelmed, maybe even a little terrified, and did the only thing he could think of. His wings slid out and he wrapped them around Crowley, creating a cocoon of white feathers.

"Me too, Crowley," Aziraphale said, his arms and wings settling in to hold Crowley as long as he needed.

* * *

The first time Aziraphale kissed Crowley on his neck, he had hesitated a moment before contact, his breath tickling Crowley's throat as he whispered, "Is this okay dear?"

Crowley had not handled it in the most dignified fashion, his mind completely distracted by how close Aziraphale's lips were to him. "Um-hm, yeah," was not Crowley's favorite way to respond in the affirmative, but it had done the trick. Aziraphale had at least been able to get out the full "yes" when Crowley asked him a few minutes later, though the speed with which he said it gave away his eagerness.

* * *

As they continued to slowly explore their new relationship, their day-to-day lives evolved as well. They did eventually tell Anathema and Newt and Adam that they were together, and while Adam didn't seem to care – like any normal teenager – Anathema and Newt exchanged knowing looks that made Crowley just a little bit annoyed. When cornered later that day, Newt admitted Anathema had suspected more was going on emotionally since before the end of the world that didn't. _How_ she had known, when even they hadn't known, was beyond Crowley, but she was a witch after all. Maybe those prophesies she and Aziraphale had been so interested in said something.

In the end, it didn't matter. After a few months they were spending every night together. At the end of the day they would retire to one of their domiciles and curl up in bed together, Crowley in his boxer briefs and a tank, Aziraphale in his matching pajama set. Aziraphale didn't always sleep, so he was most comfortable in clothes that allowed him to move around comfortably, and Crowley didn't care what he wore as long as they went to bed together.

Until, of course, the day that he did, that Aziraphale's collar was being particularly annoying while Crowley was trying to leave love marks on his neck, that it suddenly occurred to Crowley that he was not afraid of being naked with Aziraphale anymore.

"Angel?" he muttered, not moving from Aziraphale's neck. Aziraphale moaned a sort of acknowledgement, so Crowley went on. "How do you feel about trying something new today?" He kept kissing Aziraphale's neck between every few words, drawing out the question and tempting his angel to say yes.

"What…" Aziraphale started, and moaned just a little as Crowley kissed him again. "What do you have in mind?" he finally blurted out.

"Mmm," another kiss, "mostly less clothes," Crowley said matter-of-factly. It took Aziraphale a moment to respond, but when he did…

"Oh, _yes_, Crowley,_ please_!" he moaned.

Crowley had felt the moan in his lips pressed against Aziraphale's neck, in his chest pressed against Aziraphale's chest, and in his groin more intensely than he'd ever felt anything before. For a moment, he nearly lost control, lost his breath, lost his mind. He pressed his face into Aziraphale's neck, trying to block out everything else, and both his hands became tight fists; one on Aziraphale's chest gripping his shirt, the other against the headboard of his bed. He didn't move, for fear that Aziraphale would feel the physical intensity that had come to his shorts – or worse, that he'd inadvertently increase it and completely lose control.

"Crowley, are you alright?" Aziraphale's voice broke through Crowley's mind, concerned. Crowley could hear it, he could understand it, but he couldn't deal with it at the moment.

"'M fine," he muttered into Aziraphale's neck.

"…Did I say something wrong?" Aziraphale asked, still concerned.

Crowley vigorously shook his head no, damn the potential physical consequences. "Opposite," he managed to say.

"The opposite…?" Aziraphale muttered. He took a quick breath. "So… I said something _right?"_ There was just a little bit of glee in his question.

Crowley couldn't take it, not yet, couldn't relive the way that Aziraphale had said… what he had said. How he had begged Crowley with such desperation and _need._ It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. He groaned, trying and failing to stop reliving the moment so he could get his shit together and actually talk to Aziraphale. Instead he just nodded slowly, answering Aziraphale's question as best he could in the moment.

Aziraphale seemed to finally get the hint that Crowley was not feeling up for a chat. "Would you like to talk about this later dear?" he asked, just a hint of concern back in his voice.

Aziraphale's voice echoed back in Crowley's head. "_Oh, yes, Crowley, please!" _He was going to lose control, right there on his own bed, while the angel of the eastern gate sat there in confusion. He was the worst boyfriend ever.

"Dear?" Aziraphale asked, reminding Crowley there had been a question. Did he want to talk about this later? No, not ever, but also, yes, for the love of all things unholy, he wanted to hear Aziraphale make that noise again.

_Focus!_

He nodded again. It was all he could do.

"Alright then," Aziraphale said, nodding as well. Crowley could feel his curls move along the fist on the headboard. They felt familiar and innocent and tempting. "We'll just relax for a bit then, maybe take a nap. You just let me know when you're ready to… be… again."

How was Aziraphale so perfectly understanding when he had no idea what was going on? Damn angel always seemed to know what to say, it was amazing.

"I wuv oo," Crowley forced out, his words muffled by Aziraphale's neck.

"I love you too Crowley," Aziraphale said, patting him gently on the back. "Try to relax now."

* * *

It was a long time before Crowley calmed down enough to have an understandable conversation, and longer still for him to work up the courage to actually start the conversation. He didn't want to admit what had happened, not to Aziraphale or anyone else. He could barely admit it to himself. He liked it when Aziraphale _begged_. He was such a demon; he couldn't even escape it in a relationship with a literal angel. He was a monster, and more so, he was a selfish coward, because he wanted it to happen again. He wanted to tell Aziraphale what he liked so Aziraphale would do it again, and do it knowing what it did to Crowley.

He also wanted to tell Aziraphale the truth, more than anyone else he'd ever known. It was one of the things they'd promised at the beginning, that they would be truthful to each other. They had lied to each other for so long because they had to, they had to break that habit as hard and fast as possible, and they knew it. If he lied now, their relationship would end eventually, because he would lie about something else, and then another thing, and it would keep happening until he destroyed them.

It was a no-win situation, even for someone as imaginative as Crowley, so why bother trying. Get it over with. Either he was right and Aziraphale would leave him now, a horny monster, or he was wrong, but he would lose Aziraphale eventually anyway.

He sighed, and Aziraphale seemed to understand the meaning even more than Crowley did.

"Feeling better dear?" Aziraphale asked gently.

_Define better,_ Crowley wanted to say, but he knew what Aziraphale meant. Did he feel more in control? Did he feel ready to talk?

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "Sorry for that," he added quietly.

"Don't be!" Aziraphale said emphatically. Crowley almost believed him. "Everything is new, there are bound to be surprises." He paused and then hesitantly added, "May I ask what surprised you?"

Crowley tried to figure out a way to explain himself that didn't sounds horrific. It wasn't working. He sighed again. "I…" he turned his face into Aziraphale's chest, his cheeks burning. "I… liked it…" he started, and faltered. Aziraphale waited patiently, knowing somehow there was more. Crowley took another deep breath. "I liked it… _a lot_… when you… oh, _fuck_." He sat up abruptly, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in his lap. He was careful to not touch Aziraphale at all, intimately aware that both of them were in their pajamas. Aziraphale didn't move, though Crowley couldn't tell if it was due to patience or fear. He didn't look to find out.

Another deep breath. _Just say it you asshole!_ "The way you said yes, to my suggestion. I liked it. A lot." There. Bare minimum details. It was a start.

"The way I said yes…?" Aziraphale asked. Fuck, he was too innocent to make the connection on his own.

Crowley's hands were gripping his hair, holding him in a ball. "Your tone. You… begged." Silence hung in the room. Crowley barreled on. "You were so…"

"Ah," Aziraphale finally said. It must have clicked. In all of heaven and hell please let it have clicked. "Desirous?" Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley groaned quietly. "Yes," he whispered reluctantly. "You were begging me… with such _need_. And I loved it."

There, it was done.

"Crowley, love, I understand why that may have surprised you," Aziraphale said, "but I must confess, I don't understand why you seem so upset by it."

Fuck, he was literally going to have to spell it out. Sometimes being with an angel was such a drag.

"Aziraphale, I enjoyed sexually torturing you," Crowley spat. "I'm a demon, even in bed with you."

Aziraphale's arms wrapped around the ball of self-loathing on the bed, his curly head pressed against Crowley's shoulder. "Yes, you are a demon," he started, and Crowley tensed. "And I am an angel. And this is a bed. And those are pillows."

_Alright, smartass, make your point, _Crowley thought.

"And what we were doing was technically sexual," Aziraphale went on, his tone still matter of fact. "But it most definitely was _not_ torture."

Crowley turned his head away from Aziraphale, angry at his logic. Aziraphale noticed and pulled back to get a better look at him. "Crowley, I mean it. Look at me please." Crowley didn't move. "Crowley, look at me, please," Aziraphale repeated. Crowley shifted so that one yellow eye peeked out from his elbow. Aziraphale sighed but accepted it. "It was _not_ torture. I believe humans call it foreplay, actually. It's just flirting, just teasing, but with more… carnal… intentions. I was certainly not experiencing pain or fear, which I believe is customary for torture victims. And I'm fairly certain you had no intention of harming me physically or psychologically, which I believe is customary for torture…ers."

Aziraphale was making an annoying amount of sense. Crowley began to feel more embarrassed than ashamed. That was never a good sign.

"I _am_ sorry if it made you uncomfortable, but I assure you that I am not offended in the slightest. You like what you like, and you're _not_ hurting anyone with those desires."

Crowley finally relaxed. "You're making an annoying amount of sense angel," he admitted.

"I do that sometimes," Aziraphale said proudly. "Feeling better?"

"I'm fine, angel. Dumb, apparently, but fine." He scratched his head, trying to absorb everything Aziraphale had said. "Since when did you get so good at this stuff?" he asked.

Aziraphale shrugged. "I'm an angel?" he offered. He was smiling at Crowley, that comfortable, content, happy smile he only ever gave to Crowley.

"Yes, you are," Crowley agreed, and finally unraveled his body so he could kiss Aziraphale. Aziraphale held the kiss a moment longer than Crowley intended, and the fire in Crowley's body reignited immediately.

Unsure that Aziraphale had done it on purpose, Crowley searched his face. He was biting his lip, the vaguest smile on his face. Oh, that had definitely been on purpose.

"Hey angel, do you want to try something new tonight?" Crowley asked breathlessly.

"Oh yes, _please,"_ Aziraphale said, grinning even wider. His tone was all wrong, but the fact that he had tried at all did the trick. Miraculously, their pajamas were gone, though Crowley wasn't entirely sure which of them had done it. They'd find out later, based on whether the clothes were folded or not. He was too busy exploring his angel's body – and Aziraphale exploring his demon's – to care much at the moment.


	4. Blaze

CHAPTER 4: BLAZE

That first night Aziraphale didn't really know what to do with… anything… but Crowley enjoyed showing him the best part of being stuck in human bodies. It never got old, not in the hundreds of years Crowley had been taking care of himself, and throwing Aziraphale into the mix just made it better. The fact that Aziraphale was interested, _eager_ even, made it amazing.

Of course, there were several hours of exploring less intimate touches before Crowley let his fingers hover on Aziraphale's hip. Contrary to his exterior appearance, Aziraphale was muscular under all his curves, built for actual strength, and for the first time Crowley had access to it all. There was so much new ground to cover, and Crowley wanted to cover all of it before… getting distracted.

Aziraphale was exploring him as well, though Crowley could tell he kept getting sidetracked. Aziraphale's mouth and fingers would move, exploring Crowley's arms, his chest, his back, and then Aziraphale would just… stop for a while, leaning into Crowley's motions, giving into the pleasure of touch unconsciously. Crowley didn't mind. They could take turns if need be, they had time. Or Crowley could spend the rest of eternity doing all the touching, he'd be fine with that. Crowley could feel Aziraphale's muscles twitch when his fingers moved along them, but when his fingers stopped, hovering in that particular valley, Aziraphale's entire body trembled.

"Is this okay?" Crowley whispered, moving his face away from Aziraphale's delicious skin so they could actually look at each other. He had to be sure, this was too big of a step to not be sure.

Aziraphale nodded, swallowing hard and looking more scared than confident. Crowley pulled back, letting his hand rest on the outside of Aziraphale's hip.

"It doesn't need to be, Aziraphale," he said, kissing him chastely. Nothing about the evening had been chaste so far, but comfort came in the strangest places, and Crowley knew simple kisses were sometimes Aziraphale's favorite.

"No, it is," Aziraphale insisted, swallowing again. "I'm… just nervous," he confessed quietly.

"It's just me and you, angel, no need to be nervous," Crowley said, resting his forehead on Aziraphale's. They had waited this long, they could wait longer. "I don't want you to try something if you're not sure. I don't… I don't want you to regret _anything_."

"I don't," Aziraphale insisted, "this is just… very new to me. I'm just nervous."

"Me too, angel," Crowley admitted, whispering the words unintentionally.

"Are _you_ okay with this?" Aziraphale asked, suddenly wondering despite Crowley's initiation.

"_Absolutely,_" Crowley said earnestly. "I'm… I'm trying very, very hard to not tempt you here, angel," he finally said, laughing slightly.

Aziraphale laughed with him, just a little chuckle, but it seemed to release some of his tension. "I promise," he said, "I'm _just_ nervous. I'm okay, Crowley, really."

Well, either he was telling the truth, or he was miraculously a very good liar. Crowley took the gamble and slowly dragged his fingers across Aziraphale's pelvis, leaving him plenty of time to protest and making his muscles tremble again. Aziraphale said nothing, though his breath become increasingly shallow and his grip on Crowley's shoulder tightened. The heat radiating off of him was intoxicating, and Crowley had to squeeze his eyes shut to focus on the task at hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand finally gently took hold of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath, but still didn't say anything. Crowley opened his eyes, anchored suddenly in the most inappropriate way possible, and watched Aziraphale's face as his hand started to move. Aziraphale's eyes were closed, but not in fear or regret like Crowley worried. He looked focused more than anything, and every time Crowley's hand moved Aziraphale's breath became more ragged. If he needed oxygen Crowley might worry, but the angel could breathe – or not breathe – however he pleased.

Crowley moved his hand just a little faster, and Aziraphale's grip on his shoulder became just a little painful. Aziraphale was practically panting now, small moans escaping sporadically. Aziraphale's hips began to move slightly under Crowley's ministrations, and he knew they were getting close.

"Oh, C… Crowley," Aziraphale moaned, and Crowley's breath hitched. He went faster. Aziraphale's breath was heavy and fast and loud, his eyes still tightly closed but the rest of his face an open book of pleasure that Crowley could not stop reading. Aziraphale's body tensed.

"Oh, oh my… Oh, Crowley!" Aziraphale sputtered, his volume rising, before he abruptly inhaled, his whole body shuddering. Crowley's hand was suddenly wet, and he let it still, though he most certainly did not move it away.

After a moment, Aziraphale exhaled heavily, and finally his body relaxed. He was still panting, but it was less urgent now. Finally his eyes fluttered open, and he became aware that Crowley was staring at him.

"Oh, hello," Aziraphale said awkwardly, looking away.

"Hello angel," Crowley replied, his hand giving Aziraphale a squeeze and making him gasp again. As Aziraphale tried to pull himself together, Crowley finally pulled his hand away, settling it on himself instead, rubbing Aziraphale's fluid on himself. "Do you mind if I join you in post-coital fog?" Crowley asked suggestively.

Aziraphale hadn't even noticed where Crowley's hand had moved, but Crowley's question got him to look down and he immediately blushed. "Shouldn't I…?" Aziraphale said, and Crowley got harder just at the suggestion.

"Do you know how?" Crowley asked. There was no judgement in his tone, he just knew Aziraphale hadn't really experimented with the sexual side of his human body much.

"Well…" Aziraphale started, looking away. He was about to lie, just for Crowley. A thought occurred to Crowley, so strange and unexpected he actually stopped what he was doing.

"Aziraphale," he interrupted, "have you ever cum before?"

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, looked away, looked back, and pursed his lips. He shrugged in a definite no-I-have-not sort of way. _Holy shit. _

"Well then," Crowley said, surprised and not surprised, but also a little proud that had been his first. No wonder he had been so nervous! "Would you like to know how I did it?"

* * *

Nudity became a big game changer for both Crowley and Aziraphale, far more than either of them expected. It opened an entirely new universe of options and ways to be together, a universe they hadn't even known they were missing out on. More than that, it was a universe they hadn't even known they _desperately_ wanted to visit.

Crowley ended up leading the way most of the time, just because he had more experience and imagination, but Aziraphale was always up for whatever he suggested. Not that Aziraphale didn't have his own suggestions and twists on their various activities, of course. Every time he did something unexpected or different, Crowley almost lost it right then and there. It was Aziraphale who first suggested getting inappropriate in the Bentley one day, as they were driving back to the bookshop after dinner one night. Crowley actually thought he was misunderstanding, that Aziraphale's wandering fingers were looking for Crowley's hand, or… something.

He almost hit a lamp post, distracted as he was by Aziraphale's hand, and that's when Aziraphale said it: "Am I distracting you, dear?" He was smiling, teasing Crowley, and as he said it his fingers slid down the bulge in Crowley's pants with obvious purpose.

Crowley's jaw dropped, partially from surprise, partially from gasping at Aziraphale's touch. In the _Bentley_! While he was _driving_! When did his angel get so _naughty_?

There was a pop, and miraculously they were in the backroom of Aziraphale's shop, the Bentley safely parked out front, Crowley pinning Aziraphale to one of his many bookshelves. He hadn't meant to do that one, but _fuck,_ the affect Aziraphale had on him was astounding.

Aziraphale, for his part, didn't comment on the sudden change of venue or activity. He went right along with Crowley, kissing him back and pushing his coat off just as Crowley pulled at Aziraphale's.

After an eternity of shoving cloth away in between fervent kisses, both of their chests were exposed and pants undone, and their hands were on one another. Aziraphale's free hand was gripping Crowley's upper arm, holding him upright and close—but not so close they couldn't move. Crowley's free hand was tight in Aziraphale's curls, his elbow against the shelf, holding them both up.

Crowley felt his orgasm coming much, much faster than he wanted, so he stopped Aziraphale's hand with his own. It was still dangerously close, so he froze there, both of them panting, their hands tightly together between their chests, both of them twitching just out of reach. Slowly, so slowly, Crowley got some semblance of control again, and he realized his eyes had been screwed shut. He opened them, found Aziraphale's eyes watching him intently, and immediately closed them again. Eventually, his breathing steadied, he relaxed his grip on Aziraphale's hand, and tried opening his eyes again. Aziraphale was still watching him, and even though Crowley still wore his sunglasses from dinner, he seemed to know that Crowley had opened his eyes.

"Did I go to fast for you dear?" Aziraphale asked quietly, smiling apologetically.

Crowley dropped his head onto Aziraphale's shoulder, groaning. Of all the things to say, he picked something that just made Crowley hornier. The motion brought the rest of their bodies into contact, though thankfully - unfortunately - their erections were still just out of reach of one another. It took everything in Crowley's willpower to stay still and not grind himself against his angel's hip.

"_I want to do very many things to you right now, angel,_" Crowley growled, letting the lust in his veins fill his voice. _"Most of which include a considerable amount of speed."_

Aziraphale shivered underneath him, and tried to slide his hand out of Crowley's grip. Crowley pinned Aziraphale's hand to his chest again – what little control he had gained had been immediately lost to Aziraphale's comment, and he needed more time to get it back.

Aziraphale took a shaky breath, the air tickling Crowley's ear deliciously, and then he whispered, "What would you like to do?"

Crowley's breath was rapid and shallow and his heart was racing, but Aziraphale had asked, and Crowley was feeling just reckless enough to fucking tell him. He lifted his head and pulled off his sunglasses with the hand that hand been wrapped in Aziraphale's curls, tossing them somewhere in the shop, his yellow eyes staring straight into Aziraphale's blue. If Aziraphale wanted to see this part of him, then here it was, raw and hungry and unfiltered.

"I want to ravage you right here against this damn shelf. I want to make you cum six ways to Sunday, and then I want you to do the same to me. Then I want to do all those things in the Bentley, and against every shelf in this place, and against every shelf in my garden. I want to never stop touching you or your fingers or your cock or your lips. I want—"

Crowley's breath caught, a new thought occurring to him as his gaze flicked to Aziraphale's lips. He tried to shake it off and looked back to Aziraphale's eyes. Aziraphale had maintained their eye contact, his breathing rapid and shallow too, and not an ounce of fear or reproach or disgust anywhere on his face. Crowley's eyes drifted back to Aziraphale's lips, parted just a little, so _tempting_….

"I want you," Crowley whispered, trying to keep the desperation out of this voice, "to put your lips," he went on, his free hand grazing Aziraphale's lips, "on my cock." By the last word he was whispering so softly it was practically just a breath, but Aziraphale heard every word. His eyebrows went up in surprise, and then his eyes drifted south.

Before Aziraphale could react further, Crowley forced out, "Is that okay?" between clenched teeth. His need was so intense it was nearly unbearable, but Aziraphale had to be okay with it or it was just… repulsive.

Aziraphale grinned mischievously at Crowley. "_Yes,"_ he said assertively, kissing Crowley on the cheek with those lips and making him groan.

Aziraphale pushed against Crowley, not trying to extricate himself from Crowley's grip, but instead rotating them so Crowley was the one pressed against the shelf. Surprised and nervous and eager, Crowley let go of Aziraphale during the rotation, and before he had time to think Aziraphale was kneeling before him.

"Oh, _fuck, _Aziraphale," Crowley moaned as Aziraphale's lips made contact. Crowley's arms shot out and gripped the shelves on either side of him, and still he felt he could barely stay upright. Aziraphale's lips felt like they were everywhere, and when Crowley made the mistake of glancing down and seeing himself deep in Aziraphale's mouth, the dam finally broke.

"Oh, _FUCK," _he groaned loudly, his body spasming and making the bookshelf rock. Aziraphale made a small surprised noise as it happened, but made no further comment when he stood back up and settled his hands on Crowley's heaving chest.

Crowley's eyes flickered open just in time to see Aziraphale licking his lips. He wanted to grab him and take him again, but he was spent, physically and emotionally.

Instead, Crowley let his arms drop from the splintered bookshelves, and wrapped them around Aziraphale. His forehead fell forward, resting on Aziraphale's, and he focused on breathing.

Finally, when Crowley felt like he could think again, he whispered the first thing that came to mind. "Thank you."

Aziraphale smiled. "I would say my pleasure, but I think it was distinctly yours that time," he said cheekily.

"Your turn next," Crowley threatened, or promised, he wasn't sure which anymore.


	5. Conflagration

Thank you for the reviews and follows everyone! 3 3 3 3

* * *

CHAPTER 5: CONFLAGRATION

There were times when their very human bodies demanded haste, demanded a speed they had agreed to avoid. They did their best to control those demands, taking the time to try everything before even considering moving forward. Everything was new, even to Crowley, and they wanted to enjoy every moment. They had eternity after all. It had been nearly ten years since the Armageddon-that-wasn't, and there was no hint of activity from either of their former offices. Nor was there any interest in the officially-on-their-own-side pair, and they supposed their execution stunts had actually done the trick. All they wanted was to be left alone, and if they couldn't be destroyed anyway, what was the point in meddling?

One night, after a particularly celebratory night drinking at a new restaurant, they were just tipsy enough to make their way straight to Aziraphale's bed after leaving the restaurant. They weren't in a hurry, necessarily, but they knew where they wanted to be and what they wanted to be doing there. Aziraphale had drank more than usual that night, so Crowley suspected he had something planned, but he was happy to wait until Aziraphale got around to it. He had plenty of fun drinking with his best friend all evening, and he would have plenty of fun playing with his partner the rest of the night too, regardless of any surprises.

They were naked and touching each other and kissing each other and just in general being sloppy and in love, when Aziraphale finally asked, "Crowley dear, would… would you be interested in something new tonight?" He was leaning over Crowley, his wine breath just a little shallow and nervous, his eyes staring at Crowley's chest where his fingers circled the hair there.

"Yes I would, angel," Crowley agreed, only slurring a little. "Do you have something in mind?" He knew full well Aziraphale had something in particular in mind, and given everything else they had already tried he had a sneaking suspicion what it was. A few years ago – maybe even last year – the idea might have terrified him still, but they truly had grown comfortable with each other's bodies. More than that, they had grown comfortable with each other's preferences, and while there were still plenty of new things to try, there were fewer surprises.

"I… don't quite know how to describe it?" Aziraphale admitted, blushing furiously. Crowley hadn't seen him that red in _years_.

"Take the lead, love," Crowley said, playing dangerously close to one of Aziraphale's turn-ons and enjoying the hitch in Aziraphale's breath as his words took effect.

"You'll… you'll say something if you want to stop, though?" His eyes still wouldn't settle on Crowley's.

"I promise, Aziraphale," Crowley said. He hated making such earnest promises. 'Earnest' went against his nature as a demon almost as much as 'good' did. Ah, well, the things you do for love. "Now, do what you want with me," Crowley added flirtatiously.

Aziraphale's lips crashed down on Crowley's, and Crowley reciprocated but put everything he had into not letting himself take control. Whatever Aziraphale was looking for, Crowley had to let him initiate. Their lips and their hands and their bodies moved in familiar ways for a few minutes, and then, hesitantly, Aziraphale pulled back and rolled Crowley over, getting on his knees behind him. He hesitated, giving Crowley a chance to call it quits, but Crowley just got on his knees as well, pushing himself close enough for their bodies to touch, but no further. Aziraphale's hands rested on Crowley's hips, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he pushed inside Crowley.

It was unlike anything either of them had ever experience before. It was… ineffable.

Crowley's breath was shaky, his hands tight on the banister of the headboard, and suddenly Aziraphale stopped. "Is… is this still okay?" he whispered, his voice shaky as well. It occurred to Crowley that Aziraphale was having a hard time controlling his reaction too.

"Yes, angel, yes," Crowley whispered back, pushing backwards, pushing them closer together.

It was awkward and fumbling at first, but they found a rhythm. It wasn't too long after before Aziraphale suddenly picked up pace, and Crowley joined him, knowing what was coming, wanting Aziraphale to get there just as badly as he wanted to get there himself.

"Oh, Crowley, oh… oh my L…." Aziraphale's voice was rising in volume and pitch. Listening to him cum was almost as good as making him cum. "Oh, FUCK!" he shouted, and the room suddenly become very heavy. Crowley looked up at the wall in front of him to see Aziraphale's shadow, trying to figure out what had changed.

Aziraphale didn't have a shadow. Meaning he was creating his own light. Crowley's eyes wandered to the side, and instantly saw the tip of Aziraphale's wing, completely outstretched and glowing. He tried to look over his shoulder at Aziraphale, but he was shining so bright it was painful. This wasn't Aziraphale, his life partner. This was Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate.

Aziraphale's fingers were digging into Crowley's hips so hard it actually was painful. That wasn't a good sign.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, trying to keep his voice soft and unthreatening despite the fact that as a demon he was neither of those things.

"Oh," Aziraphale replied, "Crowley, sorry." The light coming off of him immediately dimmed, and as soon as Crowley could see his face he got worried. Aziraphale looked terrified.

Slowly, Crowley leaned forward, extricating Aziraphale from him without moving him. Aziraphale's hands released and fell to his sides, and then he just kind of… slumped back on to his heels, still wearing that look of terror. His wings slid against the sides of the bed as he slumped, and he moved them straight backwards to hang off the foot of the bed. It didn't look terribly comfortable, but Crowley wasn't going to nitpick wing bearing at the moment.

He turned and sat on his knees in front of Aziraphale, grabbing both hands in his. Aziraphale was still glowing slightly, but it certainly didn't hurt anymore. "Aziraphale?" he asked again. Aziraphale's eyes were wide and unfocused, his hands limp and his body shaking. What the hell had happened?

"Hey, angel, can you look at me?" Crowley asked, starting to get legitimately concerned.

Finally, there was a flicker of recognition. Aziraphale's eyes focused, and then landed on Crowley's.

"S... sorry," Aziraphale said. "I…" he trailed off, and his eyes unfocused again.

"Aziraphale," Crowley said, with a little more force. "Come back to me." Aziraphale blinked, and then he was focused again. "What's the problem?" Crowley said. He hated his word choice immediately, but Aziraphale didn't even notice.

"I…" Aziraphale didn't seem able to verbalize his emotions, and Crowley remembered the time he had that problem.

"Okay, angel, you're okay," Crowley said. "Come lay down with me, we'll just relax a bit." Aziraphale's eyes widened farther, somehow, making him look panicked again. "We're just going to relax, nothing else," Crowley repeated, gently tugging Aziraphale towards him and the massive pile of pillows Aziraphale always kept on his bed.

Aziraphale came forward, still not calm but not panicking at least, and settled on Crowley's chest, right where Crowley could hold him easiest. Aziraphale's wings were still out, stiffly hanging as straight down as they could get. It couldn't be comfortable, and Crowley couldn't figure out why Aziraphale was keeping them at that position. Another mystery to be solved once he starts talking, Crowley supposed.

* * *

Eventually, Aziraphale's wings settled into a more natural position, his breathing slowed, his body relaxed, and the white-knuckle grip he'd had on Crowley's arm released a bit. After this lasted several minutes, Crowley thought it was probably safe to get Aziraphale talking, but he was ready to stop at the slightest sign.

"You okay angel?" he asked softly.

"I think so," Aziraphale said, his voice sounding mostly normal. Crowley gave him time to go on, but he didn't.

"…Do you regret it?" Crowley asked quietly. It was the only thing he could think of to make Aziraphale react the way he did.

"…No."

Well then what the fuck.

"Do you?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"Definitely not!" Crowley insisted. "I may not have enjoyed it quite as much as _you_," he teased, "but I definitely enjoyed it, and I definitely do not regret it." Aziraphale didn't say anything, and a horrifying thought occurred to Crowley. "You did… enjoy it? Didn't you?"

Aziraphale sat up and looked Crowley dead in the eye. "_Yes, _I did enjoy it_._"

Oh, that was the problem. Crowley wasn't sure how he knew, but something about the way Aziraphale said it – confessed it – told him that was the hold up.

"Then what's the problem?" Crowley asked again. You'd think a demon would learn to use better phrases, but nooooo, not Crowley.

Aziraphale didn't seem to mind, luckily. Either he had gotten used to Crowley's bluntness already, or he was still too distracted to notice.

"I think I was a bit… surprised… by the intensity of the feelings. Especially the physical ones." Randomly, Aziraphale glanced behind him, and saw his wings still hanging across the bed. "Oh, that did happen. Oops." He retracted them and settled back against Crowley. "I…" He took a deep breath and plowed forward, speaking quickly. "I have never felt physical pleasure quite that intense before, and it felt… sinful… to me, and suddenly I felt like I might Fall, and then I felt horrible for thinking anything to do with you could be sinful or bad, and it was just this revolving door of horror and wondering what I've done and whether I've done something horrible or whether I'm _doing _something horrible and…" He took another deep breath, stopping himself with effort. "I think I was just so physically drained that my mind just kind of ran away with itself. I'm sorry."

Hell, Crowley hadn't even considered that anything they were doing might make Aziraphale Fall. He would have never forgiven himself. He still wouldn't, but if that didn't do it what could? Certainly nothing intimate.

"You have nothing to apologize for, angel," Crowley said. "You sure you don't regret it?" He had to ask, after hearing what he just heard. "Honestly?"

"I am positive, honestly," Aziraphale answered confidently. "After calming down all those fears seem… silly. And self-centered. And just a little prejudiced." He almost sounded angry with himself. "Besides, if I was going to Fall for loving you, it would have happened by now."

Crowley shrugged. Aziraphale wasn't wrong.

"I love you Crowley," Aziraphale insisted, giving him a squeeze to emphasize his words.

"I love you too, Aziraphale," Crowley replied, squeezing right back. "Is…" Ugh, he was going to sound so awful asking this… "Is it something you'd like to do again someday?"

Aziraphale giggled. "Yes, I think so. I rather enjoyed it before my little freak out," he admitted bashfully. "I think I'll enjoy it more next time, without the freak out at the end."

That got a chuckle out of Crowley. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, finally confident that Aziraphale was okay, "because as the official bad influence in your life I'm obligated to point out that that was the hardest you have _ever_ cum."

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, blushing furiously again, his mouth making that perfect cartoonish "o" you almost never see in real life. "What does that have to do with anything?" he demanded, absolutely scandalized.

"Well, your body clearly enjoyed it, so I am _obligated_ to tempt you into repeating the experience again, and again, and again," Crowley explained, his voice getting softer and more seductive with every word. "That will be much, much easier if the rest of you enjoyed it too."

"Oh, and it's all about making your life easier, is it?" Aziraphale teased, relaxing against Crowley's body again.

"Yep! Lazy demon, right here." He pointed to himself with both thumbs.

"Well, then, I suppose I'm _obligated_ to inform you that it was an awful lot of work," Aziraphale said mysteriously. "I'm downright exhausted."

"…I don't follow?" Crowley asked, genuinely confused by Aziraphale's commentary.

"If it's all about making this lazy demon's life easier," Aziraphale started, poking Crowley in the chest, "then I would advise you not try doing what I just did. Much too much work for you."

There was a pause as Crowley realized what was happening.

"….Are you _tempting me_?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Aziraphale said innocently.

"You're fucking tempting me!"

"Honestly, Crowley, no need to be crass."

Aziraphale was smiling. Crowley couldn't see it around his curls, but he could hear it in those damn tempting words. Un-fucking-believable. Aziraphale, an angel, his angel, tempting him, a demon. Un. Fucking. Believable.

"When did you get so good at this?" Crowley finally asked.

"Well, I have been dating a demon for awhile now. He's been an awful influence on me."

"Flattery won't get you out of this, angel."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Un-fucking-believable." It took a few minutes for the reality of Aziraphale being potentially good at tempting him to sink in. Then, the more he thought about it, the more Aziraphale's temptation lingered in his mind. "How tired are you, angel?" he asked casually.

"Tired enough that I don't want to do all the work again…"

"Would you be interested in something slightly new?"

* * *

The end?

This is the end of what I have planned, but I might add another chapter someday with little scenes (probably less scandalous scenes lol). Think of this like the book - I don't have additional material planned, but who knows? Certainly not me. ;)


	6. Hearthside

I couldn't stay away and I have no regrets! Welcome to my fluff chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as my smut chapters. XD

* * *

EPILOGUE: HEARTHSIDE

You can't have a roaring fire without warmth, of course.

* * *

The first time Crowley used the word "sexy" in reference to Aziraphale also happened to be the first time the angel seriously considered becoming sexual. As everyone knows, angels are generally sexless beings unless they decide to make an effort, and before the Armageddon't happened Aziraphale hadn't really considered it. That's not to say that he didn't feel love, or that he didn't care deeply for Crowley - relationships are far too complex to assume that asexuality implies a lack of deep affection, after all - he simply felt it was an unnecessary complication.

Regardless, it was the idea that "sexy" was a thing Crowley experienced, even a thing that could potentially be applied to Aziraphale, that made the angel reconsider his disinterest. They were drinking far too much wine one evening together, after the world restarted but before Tyler came into their lives, when the idea first came up.

"When did you get so _confident,_ angel?" Crowley asked after Aziraphale made a particularly sassy comment. Aziraphale just shrugged, the alcohol making him sway a bit with the motion.

"Not sure, really," he said honestly. "Prob'ly when we saved the world?"

"You're damn right we did!" Crowley leaned forward and clinked his mostly empty bottle against Aziraphale's. "Saving the world looks good on you!"

Aziraphale was far too drunk at that point to deflect, or understand, subtext. "What d'you mean?" he asked.

"There is _nothing_ sexier than self conf'dence," Crowley said emphatically, taking another drink from his bottle.

"Crowley," Aziraphale started, his brow furrowed, "did... did you jus' call me sexy?"

The entire room tensed as soon as he said it. Aziraphale hadn't thought through the words before they came out, and Crowley hadn't realized what he was implying as he said it.

"Nah," Crowley said, shrugging and taking another swig. "Jus'... stating a fact, 's all."

"Oh, alright then."

They both finished their bottles, and Aziraphale jumped up to grab new ones for them both. He had never really thought about the human concept of "sexy" before, let alone in such a personal context. Of course he knew that sexual beings were prone to lust, he was an angel after all, but... aside from reading it in his books, he'd really never stopped to think about what it _was_. How did one know if something was sexy? How did they know if they were sexy?

More relevantly, how did _Crowley_ know?

The question hit his drunk mind hard, making Aziraphale physically stumble, the wine bottle opener hitting the countertop unintentionally. He had no idea if demons were sexless by default like angels were, and even if they were, he had no idea if Crowley had stuck with his... default settings. Feeling curious and just a little bold (one might even suggest Aziraphale was feeling confident) he opened both bottles and decided to ask.

"Crowley, dear," he started casually, sliding one of the bottles into the demon's waiting hand, "may I ask you a pers'nal question?"

Crowley shrugged. "Sure, don' see why not."

"Are demons..." Aziraphale floundered. He had never been very good at subtlety, and the mount of alcohol in his system was not helping. "Are demons, when they're corporeal, are they..._ fully_ human?"

Crowley gave him a confused look. "Well, no, cause... they're _demons..._"

"No, tha's not what I meant," Aziraphale interrupted, realizing his mistake. "What I mean is, their bodies, are their corporeal forms fully human?" Crowley was still staring in confusion, his glasses halfway down his nose. Aziraphale tried again. "What I mean is, are they... fully equipped?" One of Crowley's eyebrows went up, and Aziraphale babbled on, desperately trying to get his question across without actually saying it. "I mean, it would make sense, given the job requirements, if you're going to tempt humans, you need the proper-"

"Equipment?" Crowley interrupted. A devilish grin spread across his features. "Angel, are you asking if demons come with human sex organs?"

Aziraphale took a long drink from his bottle and didn't answer. His silence was apparently answer enough for Crowley, and his grin grew impossibly larger.

"You always find new ways to surprise me, angel," he said, still grinning. "Is it really that hard for you to say it? Or is it the words themselves you're trying to avoid?" He leaned forward on Aziraphale's couch, his sunglasses still halfway down his nose and his reptilian eyes locked on Aziraphale's face. Aziraphale could feel his gaze, even if he was steadfastly avoiding it. "Seriously?" Crowley said, his tone a little softer. Aziraphale could feel his blush deepening and hoped the flush of alcohol would hide it, but Crowley seemed to see it anyway. Then, suddenly, Crowley said "Penis!" in the most matter of fact tone he could muster.

Aziraphale's jaw dropped and his gaze finally reconnected with Crowley's. He swallowed, about to ask _why_ Crowley had said it, when Crowley went on.

"C'mon angel, say it," he teased, maintaining eye contact. "Penis. It's just a word. Teenagers make a game of shouting it in public. You're a six thousand year old celestial being. More to the point, it's a perfectly normal part of the human body. You can say hand or elbow or kneecap, can't you?" Aziraphale swallowed uncomfortably again. "So just say it. _Penis._" He shrugged, finally breaking eye contact. "Or Vagina. Or Scrotum... take your pick, really... Vulva, clitoris-"

"Really, Crowley," Aziraphale interrupted, swallowing hard past his embarrassment, "if you don't want to answer-"

"No, I'll answer your question," Crowley interrupted back, regaining Aziraphale's eyes. Then he winked at the angel. "I'll also answer the one you're avoiding asking."

Aziraphale swiftly looked away again. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered into his bottle.

"Mm-hm," Crowley said. He leaned back into the sofa, still smirking. "Like angels, demons are sexless unless they specifically choose otherwise. Most demons who work on earth have made that choice... As you said, one needs the _proper equipment_ for the job." Aziraphale was still pointedly staring at his knees, but he could hear the smirk in Crowley's voice. "Myself included," Crowley added, casually.

Aziraphale tried not to react. It didn't mean anything, really. It didn't change who Crowley was, or that he was Aziraphale's best friend. It didn't matter to their relationship in the slightest. Still, he _was_ surprised that he hadn't known. Guessed, maybe assumed, but never actually _known_. It meant there were stories Crowley had never told him, probably lots of them. It meant there was a whole part of the earthly experience that Crowley knew, and knew _intimately,_ and Aziraphale was completely ignorant of.

"Was it worth it?" he found himself asking. Crowley's eyebrows went up. "I mean," he sighed, realizing what it sounded like he was asking, "not like that. I mean, there's a whole realm of human experience to... _that_. Do you feel it's worth experiencing? Like, is it neces.. nesss..." Aziraphale pushed some of the alcohol back out of his system so he could speak clearly. "Is it _necessary, _to truly understand humans?"

Crowley shrugged into the sofa. "Necessary?" Aziraphale noticed that he didn't have any trouble with the word, and wondered if Crowley had jettisoned some of his own alcohol content as well. "Necessary's a strong word. There're loads of asexual folk living full and happy lives, and they're no less human for being asexual." Aziraphale finally looked up at Crowley's face, his rational words a salve on the angel's anxiety. Crowley was being surprisingly philosophical about the question, not teasing or immature like Aziraphale expected. "But," Crowley went on, oblivious of Aziraphale's relaxing embarrassment, "like it or not, sex has played a huge role in history and culture. I think it helps me understand humans, yes, but do I think it's necessary?" He scrunched up his face at Aziraphale. "Nah."

"That was... illuminating," Aziraphale admitted. "Thank you, Crowley."

The demon smiled over at him, not quite a smirk but certainly more devious than any grin that had ever graced Aziraphale's features. "Curiosity's not a sin, angel." He features turned a little sour. "Not anymore, at least."

Both took large swallows of their wine after that. Aziraphale was well aware why Crowley had added that comment, and never knew what to say when the topic arose. Crowley's Fall was something they just didn't talk about, and while Aziraphale was curious - wasn't he always these days? - he knew how much it hurt his best friend to talk about it. That was more than enough reason not to, in the angel's mind.

The conversation as a whole did linger in Aziraphale's mind though. Crowley admitted he felt the additional experience had made a difference to his long life. He said it wasn't necessary, just useful, which somehow took some of the pressure off. If Aziraphale decided he didn't like it, he could always switch back, and that would be the end of that.

Maybe it was worth trying?

* * *

The first time either spent a significant amount of time with the other's wings was a gorgeous summer day. They were spending the afternoon in the park one day, no specific purpose in mind, just enjoying the day. Crowley, cold-blooded as he was, always wanted to nap in the sun on days like this, and Aziraphale never could give up a good opportunity to read for hours on end. They brought snacks and one of Aziraphale's big blankets and just… camped out. No conversation was necessary after all the years they'd known each other, and with Aziraphale awake (and therefore at least vaguely aware of their surroundings) they could both relax enough to enjoy some public lounging.

At one point, drifting back into consciousness for whatever reason, Crowley peaked at Aziraphale through his sunglasses. The angel wasn't reading at the moment, the book open and ignored on his lap, and his face turned toward the sun. His eyes were closed, and he was clearly enjoying the sunlight, but there was just a trace of melancholy on his features.

Crowley was drowsy and just a little drunk on the warmth of the sun, but melancholy on his angel just wouldn't do.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Aziraphale jumped, the book bouncing from his hands. Crowley's fingers twitched, and the book miraculously landed perfectly closed on the blanket in front of Aziraphale.

"I didn't realize you were awake Crowley," Aziraphale said, his hand on his heart and his eyes downcast. "Thank you for saving my book," he added.

"I haven't been for long," Crowley admitted, rolling on his side toward Aziraphale. "What's wrong?" he repeated.

"Why would you think something's wrong?" Aziraphale deflected. He was getting better at that, unfortunately. How very human. And annoying.

"You just seem… sad," Crowley admitted. "Melancholic." Aziraphale sighed, the hint of a frown on his face, but didn't say anything. "All I know," Crowley went on, "is that before my nap you were practically glowing with contentment, and now you're not."

Aziraphale smirked at him. "When did you get so observant?"

"Oh, always have been," Crowley said, smirking back, "I just like what I'm observing more these days."

Aziraphale blushed. "Well, if you _must_ know…" He trailed off.

Crowley sighed. "_Yes_?"

Aziraphale swallowed and looked back towards the sun, squinting far less than a normal human would be. "Well, I used to, ages ago, ages and _ages_ ago, on days like this, I would… _open up_." His eyes glanced around at the people completely ignoring them nearby, and then he made a vague extending motion with his arms, starting at his shoulders. Crowley nodded, understanding he meant his wings. "And I would just, sit in the sun like that. It was so relaxing… it was one of my favorite things to do." His gaze dropped again, his face becoming melancholic again. "I just miss it today, apparently."

"Why'd you stop?" Crowley asked. The idea of sunbathing with his wings out was brilliant, he was amazed he had never thought of that.

"Modern technology, you know. Surveillance is so easy to do and hide these days. Couldn't risk the humans seeing...me."

Crowley knew how he felt. No matter how much they enjoyed earth, or how much they never wanted to leave, they still didn't truly belong here either. They would always have to hide part of themselves, and it was disappointing sometimes.

Luckily Crowley was a demon and didn't give two shits about disrupting prying humans in order to preserve his own privacy.

"C'mon," he said, standing and offering his hand to Aziraphale.

"What…?" Aziraphale started, confused. "Where are we going?"

"I have to show you something, come on," Crowley insisted, thrusting his hand in front of Aziraphale again. The angel took it, and by the time he was on his feet their entire spread – books, blanket, and snacks – were packed back in the basket they had arrived in.

Aziraphale's eyebrows went up when he saw the basket as Crowley grabbed it from the ground. "Are we in a rush?" he asked, teasing Crowley.

The demon shrugged. "Mmm… yeah." He turned and marched out of the park, still holding Aziraphale's hand and dragging him along without answering any of the angel's questions. The park was near Crowley's flat, so he didn't even have to shove Aziraphale in the Bentley. After entering Crowley's building Aziraphale sighed and stopped asking questions, but Crowley took them all the way up the stairs, completely bypassing his door.

Finally, after throwing open the door to the roof, he let go of Aziraphale and set down the basket, his arms spreading wide.

"What do you think?" he said, grinning like an idiot.

Aziraphale's eyes glanced around. "I think we're on a roof, Crowley."

Crowley's arms dropped and his head fell back, exasperated. "We're on _my _roof, angel." Aziraphale continued to stare at him in confusion. Crowley took his sunglasses off, staring back pointedly. "It would take a _miracle_ for any sort of surveillance to get a view of this roof."

Aziraphale's eyes widened, finally getting it. "You didn't!"

"Please," Crowley said, waving his hands. "As soon as the _idea_ came into being I made sure this place was a no-go zone. Anything that gets close just… short-circuits." He shrugged. "Or explodes."

Alarm passed Aziraphale's face, but he didn't comment. "Are you sure?" he asked, stepping into the center of the rooftop and into the sunlight.

"_Positive_," Crowley insisted, grabbing Aziraphale's hands and pulling him farther into the sunlight. "Open up, angel."

With a sigh, Aziraphale's wings slid out. He let go of one of Crowley's hands so he could turn more into the sunlight, slowly stretching his wings outward. He gave a contented sigh, and the hand still holding Crowley's gave a grateful squeeze. "Thank you, Crowley," he whispered.

Satisfied that the angel was relaxing into his old favorite pastime, Crowley also relaxed, his eyes finally drifting to the white wings. He hadn't yet had a chance to really look at them, not even that day on the garden wall. Surprised by what he was seeing, he declined to put his sunglasses back on so he could look over them better. Aziraphale's wings were a _mess._

"Is there something wrong with your hands, angel?" Crowley asked accusingly. Aziraphale, caught off guard by his tone, immediately turned back to him, his wings drooping again.

"…No?"

"Then _why _are your wings in such a state?" Crowley accused, pointing at the disheveled left wing before him.

Aziraphale at least had the grace to blush. "Well, I don't exactly have them out much these days, so I guess I hadn't realized…?"

"That is no excuse, and you know it," Crowley demanded. Demons, unlike angels apparently, take their wings _very _seriously.

"Please, Crowley," Aziraphale sassed back. "When was the last time you tended that suit of armor you wore all those years ago? Time passes sometimes."

Crowley's eyebrows went up, he crossed his arms, and with a gentle _woomph_ his wings were out, fully extended, and if he did say so himself, in _fucking perfect _condition.

Aziraphale's shocked face told Crowley his point was made.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale started, the awe in his face softening Crowley's irritation some.

"No," Crowley interrupted, stepping back from Aziraphale's unconscious forward motion, his hands out defensively between them. He was _irritated_, damn it! How did such simple words from the angel just crumple his resolve? "Don't you _Oh Crowley _me," he warned, trying to shore up his irritation (and failing).

Aziraphale sighed impatiently. "Alright, point made, I could be doing better. Now, please?" He reached his hand out towards Crowley's wing. "May I?"

Looking away, grumpy that he wasn't grumpy anymore, Crowley crossed his arms again and grumbled, "Yeah, alright."

Gently, Aziraphale's fingers reached into the ebony feathers, Crowley shivering just a little at the touch. "Oh, _Crowley_, you're so _soft…_" Aziraphale moaned.

"_Silky_, angel, they're _silky_," Crowley demanded. Ugh, "soft," what an awful choice of words. Made him sound… soft.

Aziraphale was still staring open-mouthed at the wing before him, both hands brushing gently through it now. "I never realized, they're not just black, they're—"

"If you say anything that ends in '-escent' they're going to hit you," Crowley interrupted.

Aziraphale grinned, finally looking back at Crowley's face. "No, of course not," he teased. "They're certainly not _pearlescent _or _iridescent_ or any other of those beautiful words." His gaze drifted back to the wing. "They're dark and gorgeous and tempting, just like you."

Crowley knew Aziraphale was just placating him, but the flattery worked none the less. Aziraphale's fingers continued moving through the wing, not doing anything but touching, and Crowley shivered again. It was like, but not like, when Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley's hair. Both intimate and relaxing, both full of physical sensation and not entirely sexual.

Crowley glanced away looking for distraction, not wanting to stop Aziraphale but also wanting to not focus exclusively on the feeling of his fingers, and his eyes lit on Aziraphale's mussed wing.

Technically, the thing wasn't dirty (at least), but no respectable demon would ever let it reach that state. He reached out to untangle a few feathers, his hand stopping halfway as he realized what he was doing.

"…May I, angel?" he asked, his hand still hovering over the tangle.

Aziraphale looked over, saw what he was asking, and pulled away blushing. "You don't need to, Crowley, really, I can—"

"I know, but…" Ugh, this honesty thing was going to kill Crowley someday. "I kind of want to," he mumbled, "and I don't want you to stop."

Aziraphale smiled again, that smile he only gave to Crowley, warm as the sun itself. "I would like that very much then," he said.

Both of their hands made contact simultaneously, and they both shivered all the way to their wingtips simultaneously, and they both grinned sheepishly simultaneously. Eventually, Crowley realized that he had groomed all the areas within reach as they currently stood, and that was when he noticed Aziraphale's head had dropped onto his shoulder without him realizing. The angel had fallen asleep while standing, leaning into Crowley's touch.

Grinning devilishly at the power within his hands, he gently woke Aziraphale enough to move him to the mattress that miraculously appeared on the rooftop. He put Aziraphale face down on it, tucked his own gleaming wings away, and then went back to work on Aziraphale's wings. The angel was asleep again within minutes, both wings spread wide on the rooftop, just like he wanted.

And Crowley? He was going through those wings one feather at a time, a demon's pride in his wings leaking out just a little. When he was done, Aziraphale would have the nicest pair in all of Heaven, damn it all.

* * *

The first time they tried watching television, Aziraphale tried to pick something currently popular with humans just for the sake of having something picked. He was intrigued a bit by the concept too, of course: someone not of this world, trying to save it with their human companions. It struck a chord for Aziraphale at least, and maybe Crowley - who was opposed to the whole experiment - would enjoy the story more if he vaguely had something in common with it.

Aziraphale enjoyed it more than he expected, but what Crowley enjoyed was realizing just _how much_ Aziraphale enjoyed it. The angel hadn't found a new hobby in a few hundred years (not that Crowley had any right to judge), and Crowley didn't dislike it enough to be bothered by watching with Aziraphale.

"Want to do another episode, dear?" Aziraphale asked during a binge one day, making Crowley roll his eyes.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you angel?"

"Aren't you?"

Crowley shrugged. "I don't mind it, but I'm not as invested as you." He leaned forward, planting a slow kiss on Aziraphale's jawline. "I can think of other things I'd rather do, to be honest," he whispered.

Aziraphale glanced at the television, blushing. The show's picture still sat there, tempting them to hit "next episode" (not Crowley's idea, but a brilliant one). A nasty thought occurred to Crowley.

"You know, if I didn't know any better," he said, trying desperately not to grin, "I'd think what you really enjoyed was the _actor_, not the show."

Aziraphale blushed deeper and he looked affronted. "That is... that is ridiculous Crowley. I just enjoy the adventures and-"

"And the handsome mug on that alien man!" Crowley teased. His grin was positively devilish and completely out of control. He was only a little jealous, after all. He was a demon. If he needed to, he could make that human go away.

Aziraphale dropped his face into his hands, shaking it miserably.

"I mean, I get it," Crowley continued to tease. "He's not bad, I'm just... surprised."

"If you _must know_," Aziraphale started defiantly, throwing his hands down into his lap, "I think he looks like _you."_

The statement dropped in the room like a brick wall. Crowley was flattered and offended and proud for getting that confession out so easily. Mostly he was confused. "I'm sorry, you think that bloke _looks like me?_"

"YES," Aziraphale nearly shouted in embarrassment. "He reminds me of you and your dumb swagger and your goodne-"

"Alright," Crowley interrupted, "no need to be offensive."

Aziraphale pursed his lips. "He just reminds me a bit of you is all."

Crowley stared at the image on the screen. He supposed the human was lanky like him, maybe they had similar noses, but... no. "He's not even ginger!" Crowley protested.

* * *

The first time Aziraphale realized they had become one of those obnoxiously cute couples was several years into the upgraded relationship. It was during one of those late summer heat waves that sneak up on everyone, and the air conditioning in Crowley's flat had gone out shortly after they'd arrived. Aziraphale offered to miracle it back to working, but Crowley wouldn't let him. He actually enjoyed the muggy heat, and this one time, could they just let it be? It's not like the angel could say no to a request like that, so the air conditioner remained broken.

While Crowley enjoyed the muggy heat, it did make crawling into bed with a warm angel a little less comfortable than usual. He kept tossing and turning, inch by inch pulling away from Aziraphale's body.

"Am I too toasty for snuggles, dear?" Aziraphale finally asked, teasing just a touch after over half of Crowley's body was oddly angled away.

Crowley groaned. "A little, sorry."

"That's alright! Let me know what you need."

"Just... let's just go to sleep, angel."

Aziraphale agreed, and they settled in with just their hips touching. It wasn't either of their preferred sleeping positions, but Aziraphale could be flexible for one night.

Suddenly Crowley rolled back over and flung both an arm and a leg over Aziraphale. "What happened to too toasty for snuggles?" Aziraphale asked, surprised.

"You're too snuggleable," Crowley muttered into Aziraphale's shoulder.

Aziraphale grinned, emotionally warmed by the comment. Crowley was adorable, and the conversation was adorable and... oh dear. They had become one of those couples.

Aziraphale's grin grew. He was okay with that. Especially if it meant he got his snuggles.


End file.
